


That Guy

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-22
Updated: 2004-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey isn't that guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely after the end of the series. Thanks to [](http://ahab99.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ahab99.livejournal.com/)**ahab99** for betaing.

He's smiling at you all through the party, and when you steal into the deserted living room to quickly catch the end of the game, he follows.

You watch the last ten minutes and wish your team had won. He turns to you with a dry grin, and you sincerely hope that he doesn't say something stupid.

"The coach shouldn't have substituted," he declares, as if it's obvious.

"He swapped a player who can't run for a player who can," you reply, knowing that the substitution was necessary. Hearing the slur in your own voice, you think that Lisa was right. You should have stopped drinking about three beers ago.

The guy rolls his eyes, but the friendly grin is still there. "He substituted a player who can't run for a player who can't kick."

You laugh. Most people wouldn't have noticed that. You're about to say as much when Laura spots you and shepherds you back to the party.

When the party winds down, you've had a few more beers and you've had your fill of boring conversation. You need to call a cab. You know Lisa's not going to be happy about picking you up at three in the morning, especially when you're as drunk as this. You need to call a cab, but the guy who watches sports and understands it, offers you a ride home.

"You didn't drink?" you ask. You are drunk, and you're staring at his eyes, so you actually notice the sudden chill in them.

After a moment, his eyes warm up and he says, "I didn't drink."

You speak without thinking. "Then this party must have been really boring for you." The words tumble out of your mouth and then you look around for Laura, hoping she didn't overhear. That would just be rude.

He laughs, either at your comment or the guilty way you're scanning the crowd. Listening to the warm chuckle, you honestly don't care what he's laughing at.

He leads you down to his car, some beat-up tin can suited to a young college student, and asks where you want to go.

"Anywhere but home," you say with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest and closing your eyes. You can almost feel his stare, and when you pry your eyes open, he's watching you and biting his lower lip.

"We could go back to my place. Catch the rerun of the game," he offers and you nod, closing your eyes again.

When you reach his place, you follow him into the bedroom without a second thought. His kitchen light streams through the open door and you stand behind him, watching him pull off his thick jacket. It isn't a surprise when he turns around and kisses you. It should be a surprise that you kiss him back.

The kiss is hungry, and you're pulling at his shirt, starving for contact. You think vaguely of false advertising, of soft-looking lips and demanding mouths, but mostly, you just think about how good this feels.

He starts to walk backwards and you follow, but the combination of alcohol and lust makes you stumble.

You land on the bed, spread out on top of him, and within seconds he has you flipped over, pinned beneath him as he grinds down. Gasping, you reach for him, not sure if you *want* to pull him closer. You should push him away. "I'm not--" you say, but the words get swallowed in a kiss. When he pulls back, you're panting, but you need to tell him. "This isn't me."

He gives you a strange look: hungry, amused and a little curious. "You're not Casey?" he asks, and his voice sounds like laughter.

You shake your head and say, "Yes."

He muffles his laugh against your throat. There's a brief flare of guilt as you can't remember his name. It was something short. Biblical. Luke? John? James? You think that it might have been David or Dave, but they don't feel quite right. He bites down on your shoulder and you moan, "Dan." From his answering groan, you guess you got it right.

"Dan," you repeat, because you should know the name of whoever's undressing you. "This isn't me. I don't do this."

"Do what?" he breaths into your ear. It makes you shiver and clutch at him, brings your thoughts to a shuddering stop. He drags his teeth across your earlobe and you have to touch, have to burrow your hands beneath his shirt. Distracted by the warm skin against your palms, it takes you a moment to process his question. "What don't you do, Casey?"

You don't accept lifts from total strangers, you want to say. You don't drink this much. You stopped sleeping with college students when you stopped being one. You don't fuck guys. Which is true, apart from a couple months in high school (and that doesn't really count). Instead, you say, "I don't cheat on my fiancee. I'm not the kind of guy who does that."

He nods against your skin, and then leans down to lick a wet line across your chest. Your fingers fumble with his fly.

"I'm not that guy," you say sincerely, hoping he'll understand, even as your hand wraps around his cock. He groans as you start to stroke and you repeat, "I'm not that guy."

* * *

It was an unexpected win. Not only unexpected, but the score difference absolutely humiliated the defeated team. You're in the middle of typing up the introduction when Dan speaks.

"What happened?" he says, tilting his head to the side as he watches you type.

You read over the last two sentences and decide to delete them. "Unexpected win."

"That isn't why you're trying to brutally murder your keyboard, Casey," Dan says with a gentle smile. You look at Dan and sigh exhaustedly. "Argument with Lisa?" he guesses, and you close your eyes and nod.

"New York," you explain, and he winces. It's overly dramatic, and done for your benefit, but you appreciate it anyway.

"She still wants you to stay at Lone Star?" Dan asks, pushing his pad of paper away from him, script temporarily ignored.

"She wants to stay in Dallas," you reply. She's got family here, friends here. In the end, that was the one thing that made her forgive you for accepting the job at Lone Star Sports.

Dan shrugs. "Was it bad?"

"It was bad," you confirm.

"How bad?" Dan asks and you think that from some angles, Dan looks hawkish, like a bird searching for prey.

"Bad."

"How bad, Casey?" he asks, looking at you intently. You wish Dan would drop this topic of conversation, but you know Dan's not going to let go of this. True to form, Dan continues questioning. "Are we talking staining your best suit with mustard bad, or Germany invading France bad?"

You wonder at Dan's choice of metaphors and say, "More like the bombing of Hiroshima bad."

Dan winces, and this time you know it's real. It's subtle, and you can see him trying to hide it. "Who was Hiroshima?" he asks quietly, staring down at his pen.

You push the chair away from your double desk and stand up, just for something to do. "It's more accurate to say it was World War III, complete with nuclear arsenal."

"Yeah?" Dan asks, and waits. Dan is one of the few people you know who can make silence supportive. It's certainly a skill that Lisa's never learned.

"Yeah," you sigh, and flop back down into your chair. "We started bickering over bills and it just..." You trail off and shrug. You're used to arguing about money. You're not poor, but there's never quite enough of it. Dan knows that you can't afford everything Lisa wants. "I don't know, Dan. I don't know how we went from arguing over the long-distance phone bill to shouting at each other over breakfast." You don't know how you went from being in love to fighting all the time, either.

"Sounds bad," Dan offers gently, watching your clenched fists.

You press your hands flat against the cheap wooden desk. "She accused me of not loving her and Charlie. She said I was only thinking of myself and my career. That I was treating my family like baggage that I had to lug around." You spit the words out, but they still hurt. You're almost snarling as you continue, "I'm not moving them across the country for the hell of it, Dan. I don't put my career before my family. I'm not that guy."

Dan sighs. "I know you're not, Casey." You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "What else happened?"

"What?" you ask, confused at the question.

Dan stares at you for a long second, but you still don't understand. "What did you say to her?" he prompts and you look away, ashamed.

"I said that if they were just baggage, then I didn't need to carry them with me. The offer in New York didn't depend upon me convincing my shrew of a wife," you recite, staring at your closed door and wishing you'd never said those things to Lisa. "I said that I could take the job with, or without, her and Charlie."

Looking over at Dan, you see him watching you calmly, letting you talk without condemning you. Sometimes, you wonder how you're lucky enough to have him as a friend.

"It was a stupid thing to say. I wouldn't want to go to New York without them. Lisa knows that. It's just-- It's a good job and the pay's great." Dan nods. The jobs sound fantastic, and the pay rise is substantial. They offered you almost double your current salary. "It's enough that Lisa won't have to worry about long-distance phone bills anymore. It's enough that she can stop talking about going back to work."

You stare at your hands, thinking. "Also, it's a new start. I love Charlie. And Lisa, but I can't help thinking that starting over in a new place might be good for us." You sigh again and suddenly feel exhausted. "I'm sick of fighting with her, Dan."

Dan reaches over and pushes the shared phone towards you. "Call Lisa," he says. "And tell her that."

"Yeah?" Talking to Lisa is the last thing you want to do right now.

Dan stands up and walks towards the door. "She needs to hear it, Casey," he says, and then leaves the room. The door closes with a soft click as you pick up the phone. After a second, you dial your home number and wait for Lisa to answer.

* * *

Dan steps casually into the room and you start talking before he has a chance to open his mouth. "I can't believe she said that." Dan gives you a surprised look and you repeat, "I can't believe she said that."

Dan looks around the room, but doesn't say anything. Since he's in Dana's office, he's probably looking for her, but you figure he's your best friend and a vital part of friendship is commiserating over injustices. "I really can't believe she said that I was petty and jealous. And immature!"

"Childish," Dan corrects. "She said you were childish, Casey, not immature."

"You heard?" you ask irritably, letting your head thump back against the back of Dana's couch.

"At the volume you and Dana were arguing? In the conference room?" Dan asks disbelievingly and you sigh. "I'd say half the studio heard."

Dan's half grin annoys you and you grind out, "You could be a little more sympathetic."

Dan snorts. "You kept Dana back ten minutes after rundown, on a busy day, just to tell say that her new boyfriend is a loser. You can't really expect sympathy," Dan says, and chuckles.

"What about the fact that I'm right and she is incredibly, erroneously wrong?" you demand, standing up.

"Erroneously wrong?" Dan asks, clearly amused. "Does that mean she was actually right?"

You bristle at the suggestion, even though Dan's point is grammatically correct. "No. It means that she was really wrong, Dan. I am not petty. And I am not immature."

"Childish," Dan corrects again, and you ignore him.

"And I'm not jealous," you state indignantly.

"The guy isn't that bad. He's a bit of a wet rag, and annoyingly smug, but he treats her well. Compared to Gordon, he's a prince. Nobody but you has any objections to him," Dan says, and you can't believe he's taking her side in this. "Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I can't believe you're defending him," you reply.

"Just admit you're jealous," Dan mocks with a smile.

"I'm not jealous. I thought you knew me better than that, Dan. I'm not that guy."

"You know what, Casey?" The smile falls from Dan's face and his eyes flare. "You *are* that guy. You *are* jealous and petty and childish. The only reason you don't want Dana seeing this guy is that he's not you."

You blink and take a half-step back, away from Dan's sudden anger. "I don't want Dana. We worked that out months ago."

"I know you don't want Dana. You just don't want her to be happy with anyone else." Dan's voice is quiet, but it's still furious.

"You're wrong." Your jaw is tense and you clench your teeth together, trying not to say anything too insulting. "But it's still between Dana and me, so I don't see why you're getting so upset about this, Dan."

"It's between Dana and you, apart from when you have to tell me all about it?" Dan asks, and laughs mirthlessly. "Maybe I'm upset because you're both friends and colleagues, and this is ridiculous. Maybe I'm sick of seeing our show stilted because the two of you can't work this out like adults."

"You know this hasn't affected the show," you shoot back, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Maybe I'm sick of seeing my so-called best friend lying through his teeth. You *are* that guy, Casey! You're petty and selfish and jealous! You put your own needs before others', and then stand around sanctimoniously pretending to be a saint," Dan explodes and then pauses, taking a deep breath.

You stand there in shock, not sure what you should defend or deny first. He continues more quietly, "Just for once, I'd like to see you admit it."

The next minute is spent in silence, both of you avoiding eye contact. You stand still and concentrate on Dan's hand, as he rubs the back of his neck. You watch him shake his head gently, and then edge back towards the door, avoiding you with a tight smile. "Don't worry about it, Casey."

"What's this about?" you have to ask, worried because you know Dan and you know this isn't good. Dan doesn't pick fights unless something's wrong.

"I'm just..." he starts and his eyes skate across the room, but don't settle on you. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said it."

Picking a fight and then apologising is worrisome behaviour. Dan usually has the courage of his convictions. You have a sudden flash of Draft Day 2000. "But you did," you remind him. "So tell me what this is about."

"I think you are jealous," he says quietly. "I think you just don't want to admit it. And I'm..."

"What?" you ask softly, sitting back down on Dana's couch.

"I'm sick of you lying about it, Casey," he says and looks at you. Your eyes widen in shock as you see the hurt in Danny's eyes. Whatever this is really about, it's important to Danny. "I'm sick of you lying to yourself about it. I... I don't want a friendship based on mutual deception."

You run a hand through your hair, and wish Danny would make sense. "What do you mean?" That cliche about cautious angels and hasty fools whispers in the back of your mind. You hope you're not getting in over your head. There are good reasons why Dan sees a professional.

Dan crosses his arms in front of his chest and folds in on himself. "I'm sick of you always being the good one, Casey. You're not. You get jealous and petty and competitive just like everyone else. You lie and you hurt other people. And you're selfish."

"Yeah?" you say, and you can't help the note of challenge in your voice.

He looks up at you again, and seems almost as confused as you feel. "And that's okay, Casey. It doesn't make you a bad person, it just makes you human. It just makes you imperfect. You're still a good guy, all in all, but you're not perfect."

You shake your head. "I've never claimed to be perfect, Danny." You would have thought that was pretty self-evident.

"No, but you always say you're not that guy, and sometimes you are. You warned Dana because you're jealous, not because the guy's bad for her. You did put your career before your family," Dan says softly.

"Don't you dare state that I didn't care about them," you warn, defences at the ready. There's a fine line between being a supportive friend and being someone's emotional punching bag. You'll listen to his nonsensical ramblings, but there are some insults that won't be forgiven easily.

Dan walks over and sits down next to you on the couch. "I know you loved them, Casey. But this job isn't exactly ideal for a family. You're out basically all night. You'd only really get to see them during the mornings. You work an exhausting number of hours each day. It's hard to be single and date with this schedule. How could you fit in a family?" Dan sighs and hugs himself tighter. "I'm not saying that you didn't love them. But can't you admit that this wasn't the best job for a guy with a family? Just once, can't you admit that you could have chosen a different job? That if you'd really put them first, you would have chosen something nine-to-five, something that let you spend more time with them?"

You watch Dan, but he doesn't look up at you. "I could have," you say uncertainly, and wish you knew what Dan needed to hear. "But I wouldn't have been happy. I would have been miserable, Dan, and I would have taken it out on Lisa. I would have blamed her for not being able to follow my dreams. I would have ended up hating her. Choosing another job wouldn't have made us work."

Dan nods and says, "That's not what I meant, Casey." He sighs and when he speaks, his chin is tucked down against his chest, his shoulders high against his ears. "I mean that you lie, and you won't admit it. I know that you pass out when you drink spirits and you never remember the night before. I also know that if you're drinking beer, you always remember the night before. I know that" he pauses and looks up at you. Dan actually looks scared. Without thinking, you rest a hand on his shoulder and wait for him to finish. "I know that you are that guy, Casey. I know that you remember cheating on Lisa."

Your mouth falls open in surprise and your face flushes in pure embarrassment. You just don't have anything to say to that. You don't bother denying that he's right, that you lied about not remembering a thing from that night. You just never knew how to deal with it.

"It's not a big deal, Casey. You're not the only guy to cheat on his wife. Plenty of guys do it and it doesn't make you a terrible person. It just makes you flawed."

"Fiancee," you correct, and Dan raises his brows at you. "I didn't cheat on my wife. I cheated on my fiancee." It doesn't make much difference, but it feels important.

"I'm supposed to believe that you stopped cheating on her once you married her?" Dan asks, not unkindly.

"I didn't stop, Dan. I never started," you say, trying to get your thoughts straight. "It wasn't something I did. Like, regularly. It was something that happened once, with this amazing guy I met at a party. When I was too drunk to remember how much I loved Lisa."

"Really?" Dan sounds surprised, and you wonder if he's spent years thinking that you were cheating on her. Somehow, the thought hurts.

You wipe your palms on your slacks, and explain, "It was just once, and I woke up with a bad hangover, thinking I'd ruined my life. I loved Lisa. And I'm not gay. I mean, I'd messed around with one guy when I was fifteen but..." You sigh and Dan uncurls his arms from around his chest, turning to watch you.

His eyebrows rise. "How many women had you slept with?"

"If you make one crack about being inexperienced, Dan," you say, trailing off, but relieved for the change of topic.

"No, I'm serious. I always thought you... How many people had you slept with?" Dan asks, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in his tone.

"I had three girlfriends before Lisa," you admit, and wait to see Dan's reaction.

"You got married to Lisa and had only slept with five other people?" Dan asks incredulously.

"I don't even know why we're talking about this," you gripe in response.

"Because I," Dan starts and stops again, and you can see his shoulders tensing beneath his shirt.

Remembering Dan's past comments, you wonder about something. "You said you were sick of mutual deception."

"I'm sick of us both lying, Casey. I'm sick of you always being the good one. And I'm sick of always being the cool one," Dan states slowly.

"You are the cool one," you object, confused again. You wonder if Dan should have been discussing this with Abby.

"I'm sick of pretending to be the cool one. To be the guy who's got it all under control, who knows what he's doing." You're tempted to say that no-one thinks of him like that, but you don't want to interrupt. It wouldn't be strictly true, either. "To be the guy that can always laugh it off, the guy you don't need to worry about," Dan says as he crosses his arms again. "I'm not that guy. I don't always have it under control. Sometimes, I can barely hold it together."

"You don't have to hold it together by yourself," you remind him, and hope Danny remembers that there is very little that his friends wouldn't do for him. Including listening to absurd rants and indulging this confusing conversation.

"I know that, Casey, but I need... I want to tell you when I'm falling apart, but I can't do it if I'm supposed to be the cool one. I can't do it if you're going to sit there and pretend to be the good one. I can't," Dan says desperately and you reach over to hold him.

You sigh, and you get it. Dan's normal conversations stray along tangents, skimming through four different topics before getting to the point. You should have known that Dan wouldn't be able to just ask for help.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you say, "Then don't. Don't pretend. You admit that sometimes you don't have it together. You admit when things are slipping away from you. And I'll admit that I'm human, that sometimes I screw up and I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Deal?" Dan nods and breathes deeply, and you hope you don't sound too worried about him.

"I just... God, Case," Dan mumbles, and you pull him against you, holding him tighter. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes back. When he pulls away, he looks relieved and gives you a quick smile.

"It's okay, Dan. We don't have to be those guys. We can just be us," you say, and think that for Dan, you can be this guy.


End file.
